Dharmayoddha Kalki Avatar of Vishnu

with his hand at the people, who sat together in a huddle, “for they are bribed or threatened by the great lord Kali,” he mocked and spat, while his muscles rippled and strained, and his scars glinted under the remnants of the dim fire lamps. “I don’t know if I’ve lived a full live but I’ve seen enough evil in this world to know that we need a change.” “Boring speech,” Kali muttered. “Kill him!” he ordered the guards. With the chains that were wrapped around his skin, he was pulled down by the Nagas. In front of him, Durukti grew restless and tried to move away from Martanja, but he didn’t let her go. Kalki knelt down, and the very skies seemed bitter. He prayed to Lord Vishnu, as he heard the thundering sounds of the axe wielder’s footsteps; the man who was coming with the weapon of his death. “You don’t simply mean to kill him here?” Manasa protested. “This is outrageous. Why aren’t the other council members speaking against the biases held by Kali?” But no one spoke. Kalki could almost see their tails tucked in between their legs. Kalki’s head was put on an anvil-like structure, with his neck craned forward so that the axe could make a clean sweep. The axe was placed gently a few times over his skin, in preparation for the final swing. He could see his life flash in front of him. And then, the axe came from above, going furiously towards his neck… Before it stopped. Kalki opened his eyes, heart beating, as he looked up and saw the axe man was watching the skies, and even Durukti had stopped fighting and was looking up. In the middle of the skies, almost covered by dark clouds, Kalki could see a swerving bird making its way towards them. The entire public watched in awe, and as Kalki’s eyes focused, he realized it was larger than any bird he had ever seen. It was a chariot. And it was coming this way. But that wasn’t the most surprising part about the entire scene. It was that the chariot was held not by horses, but rather two long wings on its side. Usually these rotating, wing-like structures were used to attack a large number of enemies on the ground. Instead, here it was being used to fly the chariot. And then he saw his friends: none other than Arjan at the front, with Bala and Kripa at the back, holding a bow and arrow and spear respectively.



And the arrow was not for him. It was directed towards the Naga that was holding Kalki by the chains. It hit the skull of the Naga, as he fell back, dying on the spot. The chariot manoeuvred in the air as another arrow was shot from it to another Naga. The chains that bound Kalki were loosened and he felt stronger, so he pulled the third Naga and punched him hard. With no one to hold him anymore, he began to break the chains, but was unsuccessful. His eyes went across to the suspended chariot that had been propelled by Soma, the tell-tale blue fumes coming out from the back, crackling with energy. A ladder was thrown down, which Kalki grabbed onto. And that was the time Kalki realized that Martanja was running towards him at full speed. “KILL HIM!” Kali stood up from his seat. “And bring that beauty to me.” Arrows were shot at the chariot. But it was not affected. One was able to break its front, but it didn’t crash. Though now, as Kalki was holding the edge of the ladder, he realized Martanja was close. “Come up fast! The Soma won’t let it last in the air forever,” yelled Arjan from the inside of the chariot.

“How did you even do it?” Kalki shouted back. “And also, for the love of Gods, move forward!” “Kripa calls it a Vimana, fuelled by Soma. We just had to burn the stones inside the chariot, leaving a small opening for them to release their power. We just had to find a chariot that had no horse. And also, yes, we intend to move,” Arjan grinned. “But we aren’t able to.” Kalki couldn’t help but grin. The chains were pulling the chariot down perhaps. He realized he had to get rid of the heavy metal that was still attached to his body. “I have to go back down. The chariot won’t move otherwise. Wait here for a moment.” Kalki fell back on the ground and began to look for a weapon on the Naga. And as he came forward towards the dead Naga, grabbing its axe, Martanja appeared. “VILLAGE BOY!” scowled the Rakshas chief. “What kind of magic is this?” Kalki didn’t know how to explain it to him. But then there was no room for explanation as Martanja came forward with a twisted blade that had many conical edges to it. He began to thump it across Kalki’s axe repeatedly. Kalki somersaulted at the back. The chains were killing him and his energy. The large blade came forward against Kalki’s face as he turned around. With a swift movement, he hit the axe against Martanja’s knees. Martanja fell on his feet, but he stood up again, wiping the blood of it. It was so quick that Kalki couldn’t wrap his head around it. I need to use my weakness as my strength. With the use of the chains, he began to move it so rapidly that the chain gathered a tremendous amount of momentum. And then he directed those chains across Martanja’s face. With a quick sweep, they smacked him in his face. He fell back and collapsed on the floor. Kalki then used the axe and began to smash it against the iron chains. And he heard Kali’s scream. “Don’t let him leave!” Kalki turned to see that all the council judges, and the jury had stood up; even the citizens were hooting, surprised and elated by such commotion and entertainment. Kalki broke the first part of his chain and then another, before stepping out of his ankle manacles. But he could see Martanja was struggling to get up now. “Take me.” Kalki’s gaze swept down and he realized it was Durukti who had reached out to him. “Please, take me.”

Kalki, for a moment, thought about the tyranny of Kali, and how he would be protecting her from his wrath by taking her away. But then, she was the reason Lakshmi had died, along with all the village folks from Shambala. She was the reason he was here. But he had to stop blaming her. Kalki shook his head. “If there’s one person who can help Kali right now, it is you. Save him. And change him if you can.” “You can’t leave me here. Please,” she begged, her hands folded together. “He’ll kill me or do something worse. I don’t know. I don’t know what he will do.” Kalki grabbed her face and looked directly at her. “I will be back. Thank you for everything.” He kissed her on the cheek and then sprinted towards the ladder, grabbing for it. He didn’t have the time to see Durukti’s face. And when he turned around, he saw Martanja was reaching out for the ladder. The chariot manoeuvred forward, leaving the area over the podium. With a quick, fleeting jump, Martanja lurched from the podium towards the ladder. His jump was so high that he was able to grab the edge of the ladder. This led the chariot to tilt violently, but it still moved. And it escaped the zone where the trial had been taking place, making for the north. Kalki was climbing on top, but Martanja was faster. With one hand over the rope, he grabbed Kalki’s feet and tried to dislodge him. Kalki decided to kick him, but it didn’t work. He clutched his feet and sunk his serrated nails into Kalki’s already bruised ankle. Kalki moaned in pain and with his remaining strength, he pushed him down. Luckily, the flying chariot had been going over a tall building and Martanja fell on that, rolling over. Kalki and Martanja shared a glance of contempt, while he stayed there with his weapon. “Come up,” Arjan called. Kalki gritted his teeth. I have to end this. “Throw me a weapon.” “Why?” “Just throw it.” Kalki looked up and saw Arjan was tossing a sword. Kalki grabbed it. It was sheathed so the blade didn’t slice throw his hand. “Hold it properly.” “Let the chariot stay here; rein it somewhere.”

“Rein it?” Arjan’s voice squeaked. “In what world does this look like something that can be reined? Where do you plan to go?” Kalki pursed his lips. “I plan to end this.” Arjan shook his head in defiance, but Kalki jumped from the ladder, and he dived to the top surface of the mud building, where Martanja was standing. Kalki rolled over the ground and unsheathed his sword, his eyes down, hair dangling over his temples. He tossed the sheath away, as he came forward, with Martanja charging at him as well. “What made you return, coward?” Martanja grinned. His teeth had grown dark, and his eyes had a certain dark energy, unlike the last time, when he would get nervous even at the sight of Durukti. “You killed my people.” “I did. That wench told me too.” “She said to stop, but you didn’t.” Martanja shrugged. “Eh, I was doing my duty, boy. Wouldn’t you have? My men have their own minds as well. You can’t blame them for it.” He instantly attacked Kalki. Kalki deflected it with his sword. Martanja stepped back, his feet moving adroitly. “And also, if I could go back now, I would rape and murder everyone in that bloody village to get what was in there.” Soma! “I can see it’s infecting your mind.” Kalki came forward and hit the blade against his blade, but it didn’t help. He was quick. “It isn’t. It makes me stronger,” Martanja said, as he finally leaped forward, attacking Kalki. But Kalki knew where to stop and he did. He deflected it again. The sound of clashing metal roared in the sweeping wind, as Martanja tried to overpower Kalki with his sword, until Kalki kneed him. Martanja fell back, toppling over at the back. Kalki came forward and again tried to plunge his sword inside Martanja, but it didn’t stop him, and he grabbed the sword by his hand. “As you can see, I’m not ordinary anymore.” “Clearly.” Kalki pulled back the sword while Martanja licked the blood on his hand. “My ancestors believed that blood held a vital component of nutrients that is supposed to egg on a warrior.” “Is that why they look so grotesque themselves?” Kalki grinned. “Trying to be funny won’t help you to escape this reality; you are stuck with me here.”

Kalki swung his sword, with his feet parted. “You are wrong. You are stuck with me.” And then Kalki came forward, advancing towards Martanja. He was able to stab him deep inside his skin and at that moment, Martanja grabbed him from the back, his nails digging into him, as they both fell from the edge of the building. Kalki could feel the fast wind whipping against his hair as he finally realized he had fallen over a shack. He watched Martanja, who was already standing up by then and was moving away from Kalki, staggering over the ground, dragging his half-dead feet, scowling and mumbling to himself. Kalki came onto his feet, each joint of his body hurting. He couldn’t believe how bad it hurt. Kalki rounded off and realized, his blurry vision returning back to focus, that Martanja had his sword embedded in his body. He was unable to walk properly and was grabbing attention of the citizens, who were watching him with disgust and contempt. Martanja was perhaps making his way back to his fort, to be healed. But not again. Kalki looked at the weapon merchant, whose shop he had destroyed. “I apologize, friend,” he said to the man who frowned at him. And then Kalki’s eyes fell on the bow and arrow, made of simple bamboo, but blood tainted. It was not similar to the one he had used in his dreams with Lord Raghav, but it was quite similar to the ones that were made during the Battle of Shambala. “Can I use it?” The merchant guffawed at that. Kalki didn’t really care since he went for the bow and strung the arrow to it. He perched on the side of the road, his feet firmly planted. His arm was straight and his one eye was closed. He took a deep breath, calming his senses. And with a slow chant to Lord Vishnu, Kalki let the arrow loose. It went straight, hitting Martanja on the skull, breaking through his scalp and finally making him collapse. Kalki tried to walk as fast as his wounds would permit him, to see Martanja, who was lying near the gutter, his blood flowing over his mouth, eyes lifeless. The weak moonlight shone over the cesspool that had been created by the events of the night. Taking a deep breath, Kalki realized he had won for the first time.



Manasa hadn’t cried the day her brother died. They had promised, no matter what happened to each other, they wouldn’t shed tears. They’d be strong and they’d fight back. And Manasa had been doing that ever since Vasuki’s assassination. It was a clear plot by Kali, in which he had been assisted by Kuvera and Vedanta. But now, after what she had witnessed yesterday, not the suspended machine, but the submissive nature of the Yaksha and Manav king, she was certain of one thing. They were afraid of speaking out against Kali, as if they knew what he was capable of. They didn’t want to speak against him in front of him, but Manasa knew they might be plotting to kill him the first chance they got. Manasa was callous about apprehending the prisoner, that village boy. It was her way of showing she wouldn’t take domination from Kali lying down meekly. She didn’t care who the prisoner was. Clearly, though, he was important to Kali and that intrigued Manasa more than the mundane court proceedings. She knew she had to do something about Kali. But perhaps, she has to take Kuvera and Vedanta on her side. The problem was, Kuvera no matter

what, wouldn’t even talk to Manasa properly, let alone side with her. The battle between the Yakshas and the Nagas was ancient, going back several hundred years. There was no start to why they hated each other, but Kuvera had done a spiteful thing to Manasa’s tribe by stealing their Mani, which the tribe valued the most. Manasa was sitting on the pedestal, her robes pooling over the ground while shadows formed over the walls. Manasa knew that Vasuki’s death would mean most of the nobles in Naagpuri would be fighting over the Chief status. She had to return and fight for Vasuki’s honor. Should she fight or should she take revenge? It was most confusing. Manasa rested her functioning hand over her temples, thoughtfully musing, when she heard a sound. It was of falling dust and bricks. Her eyes darted, hand whipping towards the dagger that she had sheathed from her belt, pointing it towards the enemy, who had appeared from the window. Lanky and slender in posture, the figure was familiar by the shawl that concealed the face, and her telltale silver hair. It was none other than her spy and assassin, Padma. The silver hair was knotted on top and a pouch sagged from her girdle where she kept all her antique currencies. She had sharp daggers sheathed and hanging from her waist and thighs. “You could have sent me a note to inform me that you were coming. You didn’t have to hide and enter, darling.” Manasa smiled weakly at Padma. “I’m practicing.” For what, is the question. Padma was a determined girl, reminding Manasa about herself when she was young and keen to be a warrior. Unlike the Rakshas, who tamed their women, the Nagas had their equality priorities straight. They believed women should learn warfare as much as men. But Manasa, regardless of her zesty attitude, was left behind because of her handicap. Manasa sighed, realizing Padma was in angst. “What is wrong?” “I was there yesterday. At the trial,” Padma said. “I didn’t see you. You shouldn’t be seen with that hair of yours anywhere,” said Manasa, pointing to her eccentric hair. “I was the one steering the chariot,” she said. The chariot was a deft presentation of science and magic. She still could not understand how it was possible. But Padma, by the looks of it, had no intention of speaking about it.

“I know it was all very shocking and nice, but that’s not my concern. I want you to know that I have done what you asked of me,” Padma said. “What?” “I burnt down Kali’s lair, the one where he holds the herbs.” Manasa stood up, elated by Padma’s words. She wanted the hug the urchin, but then she was too dirty for it. “Dear me! Well done, darling.” She had heard that after the trial and the mishap, Kali’s anger had grown worse when he realized something had gone amiss in the other side of the city, which he held dear. It wasn’t clear, but his steps were brisk and he escaped rather than discussing much about the turbulence. Vedanta and Kuvera talked to each other and while Manasa eyed them, Kuvera turned back and he didn’t have his annoying, triumphant smirk anymore. He was frowning. And he was afraid. No matter how much she despised Kali, who had become sullen and ugly, she would congratulate him for taming Kuvera properly. “But they were not herbs. They were stones,” she said, arching her brows, now walking thoughtfully. “Blue in colour, just like a mani or a sapphire.” “Naagmani?” “What is that?” “Powerful gifted stones by Lord Shesha,” Manasa said. “They were hardly ever found by our people and the one we did find is kept safely in our temple.” Padma shook her head as if her thoughts had muddled. “I don’t know about all of that. I just thought of telling you I did my duty.” “For more gold coins? I brought them…” Manasa reached for a pouch when Padma’s voice interjected her. “No. I don’t want any fancy coins anymore. I want something else.” Manasa swivelled her head. “Yes, dear?” “I want to know what Vedanta holds most dear.” Manasa stayed still, contemplating. Padma did all of this for a reason. She was after Vedanta. She didn’t reveal it then and even now her implication was far from direct. “And what do you intend to do with it then?” Manasa gently prodded. “That’s my concern.” She remained impassive. Manasa knew she could send off Padma and if successful, she could cripple Vedanta, just like she had done earlier.

“All right,” Manasa nodded. “Her name is Urvashi, his only daughter.” Padma smiled back at Manasa, before leaving by the window. The smile was of acknowledgment. She didn’t care to listen about the plans. And by the Gods, if she succeeded, Manasa would have one less headache. If she didn’t, Manasa would have to find another spy for herself. Manasa had been summoned for the council meeting late at night. It was odd that her sleeping hours were replaced by working hours. But with two Naga soldiers on her side, she proceeded to the chambers where the meetings usually took place, in the government building. Manasa realized as the doors were opened; that the entire place, though lit by fire torches, had not a soul. Surprised, she walked further ahead, where the slab of rock used as a table was placed. It was empty. Completely isolated! What was going on here? And that was when she turned over to find her two guards with swords were plunged into their hearts and their throats ripped out. It was so sudden that Manasa didn’t have the time reconcile herself with the sight of horror, slipping over her robes and staggering over the floor, as she realised that the killers of her men were none other than the two humans, who had been forgiven at the trial and asked to serve in King Vedanta’s army. This was another ploy. And then one of the Manavs shot a dagger across the room, towards Manasa. Realizing she had nowhere to go and nowhere safe to hide, she let put her hand in front of her, trying to block the eventual annihilation. But nothing happened. The soldiers were puzzled. As Manasa opened her eye, watching them, she realized the dagger had stuck into her limp hand, the one without any nerves in it. Instantly, Manasa pulled out the dagger from her hand and threw it back, this time sliding it into the Manav’s head with ease. The other one came charging at her, yelling as loud as he could, but Manasa rolled over, confusing the soldier. She pulled out her snake-hilt dagger and sliced the soldier’s knee.

He fell on his knees and then Manasa stabbed the soldier in his back, twisting hard. Manasa stood up, letting her heartbeat calm down as she casually made her way outside the gates. She stood in the ornate corridor, watching the other end of the corridor; where Koko, Vikoko and a few other Manav soldiers stood, trying their best to ensure she did not escape this encounter alive. Kali was trying his best to kill her. Perhaps it was about the trial, and how Manasa had defied him at every stance. He wanted her to act like Kuvera and Vedanta. Servile and submissive. But she wouldn’t budge. Slowly, in the shadows, she glided away from the corridor, moving to the exit. While Koko and Vikoko would have realized by now that she had defeated her assassins, they wouldn’t realise she knew the alternate ways out of this building as well. But as she came to the path that led to the different exit for the building, she saw it was locked. Just then, she heard the rapid footsteps of the soldiers on the floor above, probably spreading out to look for her. She knew she had to do something. She reached for the window, concealed by thick, purple curtains. She touched the edges and looked down. It was a beautiful sight of Indragarh, heavily guarded and patrolled by her own men. She looked down and could see the undulating waves on a waterbody’s surface. “She’s here!” a soldier called out. Oh by the heavens and hells! Manasa shoved herself down the window. She splashed down into the water, like a heavy sack of grains. For a moment her body felt helpless, her view blocked by weeds and fishes, her eyes burning in the filthy water until she pulled her head out of the water, gasping for breath. She began to swim; realizing Koko and Vikoko hadn’t stopped there. They shot arrows wrapped with oiled cloth that they lit and shot into the water. One of them fell close to Manasa, but she avoided it and swam awasy as quite as possible, reaching for the shore. She rested against the shore, her hair weighed down by the greasy and dirty water. She knew she couldn’t stay here. The best option was to run and run where she would be safe. Manasa knew that threatening Kali, and defying him, would have logically led to this. But she never knew he would have the guts to do it in the open. He was a changed man and for the worse.

Back at her city, Naagpuri, she didn’t even know how things were; she had been away for a while now. She had left her trusted cousin Kadru back there to look over things. I hope everything is still all right. There were many out there that hated her, but many loved her too. She knew what she had to do now, as she panted for breath, a frown contorting her face. She would return again to Indragarh. And this time, she wouldn’t come back alone.

Padma had thought of leaving for Vedanta’s fort, but she left for Ratri’s house instead, hoping to catch her so-called accomplices. She still wanted time to think over the actions she would be executing. The sad part was that she knew Urvashi, at least by face. She had seen her roam in the bazaar, flanked by her coterie of friends and guards. And this little knowledge made the action of trying to hurt her, a little more personal. When she had entered, she saw Ratri with Kumar discussing something, while Bala walked up to her, patting her and perhaps asking for her forgiveness. Padma retreated to the far end of the corridor, where she met Kripa, who was savouring a mug of sura, grinning at Padma. “You look quite glad,” Padma couldn’t help but smile. The man was ridiculous but had the tendency of making her chuckle. “Just enjoying the little things in life, lass,” Kripa said. “And drinks are something you get so little of, but you enjoy them so much.” He looked sneakily at Padma. “Aren’t you packing? We leave in a while, at midnight or after that, perhaps.”

Leaving? She had never thought of it. She had work here. She had to remain here for now. But then after taking her revenge, she had no idea what she’d do. “I’ll be staying here in the city.” Kripa narrowed his eyes. “You mad, lass? You are the best thing that has happened to us, mind you. I mean, you were the one who found us that chariot and dug two holes in it to put the stones in it to ignite. You knew all of it.” Padma grinned bashfully. “You all need to survive without me. I know it’ll be hard, but I think it is necessary. And also, speaking of packing, you don’t seem to worry about that yourself.” “I don’t believe in materialism, girl,” he grinned, sipping his drink. Padma laughed, leaving him there, as she made way to her room to pack up for her one last duty, only to be interrupted by another familiar face— Arjan. Tall and muscular, though not as much as Kalki. His scar had almost healed, now just looking like an angry red welt across his face. But every time he smiled, one could gauge his innocence from the lost, bygone days. “Where do you plan to go?” he asked quietly. “Does it matter? I helped you. You should worry about that.” Arjan had a smile dancing over his lips. He was glad to be able to save Kalki, the so-called saviour. But she didn’t care to know much about that. She didn’t believe in the horseshit. “I heard you talking to Kripa. You don’t want to leave with us.” “Ratri isn’t as well. Why are you so worried about me? Why aren’t you asking her to leave as well?” “Because,” he paused. “If Ratri leaves, it’ll be a problem and eyes will turn towards her. And also, you are a valuable member. Come with us.” “And what do I get in return?” Arjan had no answer. He pursed his lips and lowered his eyes. “Not everything in life can be bartered in value terms, Padma.” Padma almost felt ridiculous for asking something in return, as she packed her sack with the zinc explosives Kripa had managed to make from the remaining Soma. He had asked her to use them only when absolutely necessary. She knew what she had to do with them. “I don’t know what you will do with the explosives and I have no right to ask you, but I just want you to know we can wait till you do your job or

whatever it is. We can wait till then.” “Kali might find you till then.” “He doesn’t care two hoots about Ratri. She’s just a librarian to him, at the end of the day.” Padma paused. “My name is Padmavati.” She didn’t know why she told him her full name. It was something she hadn’t even shared with Ratri. Perhaps it was his soft, delicate eyes, and the way he spoke with respect and intellect. She had some affinity towards him, unlike others whom she couldn’t stand being with. Arjan arched his brows. “That’s a Dakshini name.” She nodded. “I’m from the South, yes.” “Do you know much about your heritage?” The thought crossed her mind, of telling him, but she remained quiet. “We migrated, me and my brothers, during the Pact between North and South against the Tribals.” Those were the dark times as well, when her brothers had been forced to stem Vedanta’s madness. “I ask you to come because he needs someone like you to keep him in check. You are a smart mouth sometimes, but generally a clever woman.” Padma sighed. “Where do you all intend to go?” “North, towards Dandhaka, and from there to Mahendragiri.” “That’s the snowy region.” “Yes.” She hated the snow. Grimacing, she nodded. “I’ll see to it. Why but?” “We weren’t joking about Kalki being the saviour. He really is. You saw him.” Padma had, seeing how Kalki was able to adroitly manage the iron chains around him, aside from the nerve-wracking fight against Martanja. But still, there must be some logical explanation, and she sought it. “I’ll see to it, Arjan.” Arjan patted her back and made his way outside, before turning back to look at her one last time. “What you have, the explosives, I know you must have a mission. But from what little I’ve seen, it’s a horrible thing. And by the Gods, it shouldn’t be used often. I know that you’ll be using it for some purpose that you find right. My father was murdered by a Mleccha and I hated them until I met Dattatreya. I never thought I would have pitied a man like him, but I did. I even pitied the woman, Durukti, who had invaded our land.”

He smiled to himself. “It’s easy to hate, but difficult to forgive. If more folks did the latter, I’m sure we would live in a more peaceful world.” And he left the room after that. With a heavy heart, Padma took the bag and slung it on her shoulders. She didn’t know what to feel right now. She contemplated settling down. She had to think and react. Think and react. Think and…

Arjan drank a little bit of wine for the first time, calming his senses, watching the shadows from the fire torches over the ceiling. Arjan blinked twice, realizing that the pedestal he sat on, in the room, shook a little. He turned comfortably only to find Kalki had woken up from his slumber, slowly getting up. Setting his wine on the side, Arjan came to help him as Kalki held onto his ribs. He had grown so mature, so fast. Kalki had a thick beard, growing like wild weed over his face, eyes that were tired and hair that had grown scraggly. He had scars all across his body; lashes and red welts from the flogging. It felt like yesterday that they were sitting at the farm, looking at the dipping sun, joking and elbowing each other, telling stories. They were brothers, separated by blood but joined by love. Shambala was a farfetched dream and he wished he could return, but Arjan knew it was over, for now at least. His mother was at the temple, and Arjan had written a note to her, telling her they were fine. But he didn’t let her know where they were, otherwise she would be worried. Arjan was the last person to lie to his parents, but he had to. Circumstances were forcing his hand in this matter.

It’s always what you never expect. It’s always the innocent who has to take the fall in front of evil; the innocent who is spurred on to try and wage a war against the evil. A man born in riches can be corrupted easily. Humility is what makes a hero. “I’m all right,” said Kalki. “You don’t look quite right.” “Is that wine I smell?” he asked gruffly. Arjan flustered, moving back. “I…uh…” “Can I have some as well?” Arjan laughed and poured some for him. Kalki took it in his hand, shivering, gulped it one go and returned the goblet to Arjan. “Lakshmi always tended to…uh… me,” Kalki said, not looking up, but down at his palms that had roughened through time. “I can’t forget accept that she’s dead.” He paused. “But then, Ma had said, just because they are dead doesn’t mean they are not around.” He smiled at the thought. Arjan patted his older brother’s head, as he sat on the opposite side, staring at the fine man he had become. “I have to admit you have grown. In more ways than one.” “Says who?” Kalki smirked. “You out of all people shouldn’t say this. Carrying a flying chariot over a trial.” “That was Kripacharya’s idea.” “He’s a…mysterious man.”Kalki turned his head and watched Kripa, who was snoring at the doorstep, close to the corridor. Arjan bit his lips before he continued, “I should say this, but I fear. I am perhaps getting a bit too paranoid.” “First instincts never lie,” Kalki said. “All right,” Arjan nodded. “I met a Mleccha.” There was a shift in Kalki’s eyes, so he continued. “He told me that an old man was trying to goad them to attack Shambala.” “Old man? You think Kripa hired a bunch of men to kill my father?” “Perhaps. Or just kidnap. Killing happened out of necessity perhaps.” Arjan couldn’t believe he was accusing a man who had helped in saving his brother. Kalki remained impassive. “It’s uncertain. There is no proof. Can the man identify Kripa?” “He’s dead, trying to save us.”

Kalki laughed at the irony. Arjan did too. It was a pathetic scoffing sound, ringing in the room. The world was full of irony and insecurities. “We can only trust each other, perhaps.” “Yes. And Bala and the new girl.” “New girl?” Kalki was thinking, his eyebrows raised. “Yes, yes.” Arjan sighed. “Her name is Padma. She has a tough exterior, but a heart of gold somewhere inside. I know it.” “I’m sure. I trust your judgment. I’ll look out for Kripa. We can’t trust the old man.” “You are right. But he’s correct about one thing. You need to leave for the hills, to learn the ways of the Avatar,” Arjan said. “You can’t sit here. You need to defeat Kali. He is growing crazy and his craziness has no limits.” Arjan could see Kalki was contemplating. A young boy from Shambala didn’t want to fight the evil incarnate. He wanted the simpler pleasures in life instead. “How is Shambala?” “Shattered,” Arjan shook his head. “We left in order to save you.” “Will we ever return?” “I hope we do. When everything is all right, we will.” Kalki was avoiding the question, and it was evident. Arjan leaned forward. “Listen,” he added. “I know it will sound harsh, but I need you to promise me something.” “What?” “I need you to promise me that you understand we are on a dangerous path, and that you will undertake well-thought out plans and try and remain safe. We are leaving our zone of comfort. We are out there. And we need to be prepared, most of all.” “For?” Arjan blinked. “If anything happens to me, anything at all, I want you to promise me that you will move on. To learn. To go and become what you are destined to become. Embrace it. Don’t hold yourself back like you did in Shambala. You will continue to lose. It’s all right to lose one person and protect the world in return.” “What if that person means the world to you?” Arjan had no answer for that. Kalki was right in his own way. “I want you to promise me, nevertheless. Don’t stop, otherwise you’ll regret it forever.

Return when you are ready and fight the Adharm.” “I can’t believe it, hearing you talk about supernatural things.” “I’ve seen enough to believe.” Kalki chuckled. “All right, I promise. But I won’t let anything happen to you.” Arjan went over and hugged his brother. They stayed locked in an embrace until Arjan walked over to the window with the refilled goblet. “I saw that you kissed the woman who destroyed our place. What was that about?” “It was a peck, brother.” Kalki was flustered. “And she’s a misunderstood woman trapped by a megalomaniac man. I wanted to save her, but I couldn’t.” “Because she hurt you?” Kalki shot him a look of confusion. He was himself conflicted, and it was evident. “Or perhaps I knew she was the only one who can humanize Kali.” “In the process of doing good, brother, I hope you didn’t ruin her life.” Arjan didn’t feel any sympathy for Kali’s sister, but Kalki had known her, and Arjan knew better than to judge someone before hearing her side of the story. While Kalki had gone in deep thoughts, Arjan’s eyes flew towards the city, where he could make out the dark shadow of a lurking figure, covered in a shawl. Arjan knew who it was—Padma. She had left, even though he had subtly warned her not to do. “I will be back.” Arjan thrust the wine glass toat Kalki. “Enjoy this, and stick to your promises.” Kalki smiled. Arjan did too, before leaving him in the room. Arjan had a sickle dangling from a girdle at his hips. And he was proceeding down the dark streets. In the wan light, with the hooting owls, and the bats in the air, crept Arjan, unnerved by the scenery around him. He saw Padma, away from him, but still walking at a brisk pace. When would that girl learn that there were things bigger than her? But then, he didn’t know her story. And it was wrong again to judge her. Perhaps it was a necessity, for all Arjan could guess. He soon realized that she had begun to dodge the night patrollers, who surprisingly weren’t the usual Nagas. Most of the patrolling police were either Manavs or Yakshas.

Arjan let out a deep breath, as he turned into another alley, away from the main road, realizing that she was leading towards the royal fort. It was Vedanta’s fort. He saw her, with acrobatic finesse, climbing over the wall and going on the other side. Arjan, quickly paced up to the wall, and tried to vault across the brick wall, though his ankle didn’t allow him to. He used his sickle, clawing it deep in the wall, and then with that, he forced himself up, catching the edge and finally reaching over the top and falling onto the other side. Pushing aside the shrubbery near the top, he saw the large bell-tower inside the fort, with armed soldiers walking about. Catching his breath once again, Arjan followed her. He had no idea why he was doing what he was doing, but he wanted to save her and also see what she was up to. If she got caught, she’d have a better chance of escaping with him. She was useful and from what he had learnt, one mustn’t let useful people leave in a hurry. If Kalki found out, he wouldn’t agree. To be fair, Arjan had a lot of reasons to be here and many didn’t make sense to him. Kripa always gave him the creeps, but Padma didn’t. She was brutal and honest. Something Arjan hadn’t seen in this world much. And then she saw her climbing one of the main towers, reaching over and hiding from the lights. Arjan stayed down as she had lurched inside the window. He wanted to leave, but then concealed in the shrubs, he saw a guard approaching the path in front of him. He remained still. And hoped to Gods that he wouldn’t be caught.

Bala wasn’t impressive. In fact, he was not impressive in any way. And yet, she found him to be a kind-hearted man. Ratri knew he was almost a decade younger than her and she had no amorous feelings towards him. In fact, they were friendly just like she was with Kumar. But many in the house thought of them as a couple, which was absurd. Then again, it was Bala’s fault as well, since he blushed around her. Maybe he liked her, and she found it cute, but it would never be reciprocated. She had better and more important things to do, especially with the things now happening in the city. She had been furious when found out that they were planning things behind her back. She had grand plans of taking down the new order, but none of it made sense to them. They just wanted to free their comrade. It was a futile attempt that ended up being not so futile since the escapee, a fugitive, was inside her house. And if anyone had seen him entering the house, she would be dead. But she decided to help them. Why?

It was because they reminded her a lot of Lakshmi. She had been a kind, adventurous soul who didn’t listen to anyone but herself. And that’s exactly how they were. They weren’t bad people. They had different ways of doing things. And she shouldn’t judge them for that. Except for the old Acharya—he was slimy, unintelligible, dirty, clumsy and horrible in every sense. She hated the kind, the Acharyas, for having little knowledge and then using that knowledge to entice poor villagers into sending their children to them and earning a few coins. Education shouldn’t be imparted around a tree. Ratri, while writing a few letters to the officials for the inauguration of the library, had sent out plenty of invites, even to the likes of the Tribals. She had to act nice, portraying herself as a liberal. In the pool of light cast by the candle, she scribbled names and signed on papers, when she heard the footsteps. She looked up and it wasn’t Kumar. It was Bala. His tall, thick frame was covering most of the space in the room. It was a surprise to Ratri how big a Manav could be, in equivalence to a Rakshas. She continued to work, ignoring him, as he stood there, hands in the front, his mace making a sound as its edges rattled over the floor. “Uh, thank you for everything.” Ratri nodded. “It’s all right. Anything for Lakshmi’s friends.” She would have thrown them out if it was otherwise. “I hope we meet again.” Ratri had been told by Kumar that the guests would be leaving for their next destination, wherever that was. Ratri didn’t care to ask. It was not her business. “Me too. I hope that.” She pulled up a smile. “I’m glad you were honest with me.” But why was he? He could have lied like the rest. “Yes. I apologize,” his voice was hoarse but had a gentle edge to it. “For the others. They were afraid of telling you.” Ratri stopped her quill at that. “And you weren’t?” “Many don’t know, uh, but I recognize a person in the first instance. And you seemed like a person who would help us, going to great lengths, and not minding it.” Her face had no expression, but she liked the fact that he had truly understood her. “I won’t, yes. But I have limits as well.” “Of course and before we cross them, we plan to leave.”

“I’m glad,” she said, as she signed more letters. “And about the…uh…” “You don’t need to speak about it.” Ratri’s cheeks were turning red. Damn! “You sure?” his voice squeaked. He was nervous. “I’m sure. Believe me.” Ratri shook her head, recalling all the days that had led up to this. The time she spent with Bala, it came like a fever rush. She had been a careless fool. She had been drinking a lot lately. Perhaps it was the way she mourned for Lakshmi, for not having a family, for living with a Yaksha. She had no lover. It was her choice, of course, but there days when the stars would speak back to her and she would know she was going delusional. On one of those nights, Bala had caught on to her. She was standing on the roof, at the edge. And before she could fall and break her limbs, he had grabbed her and pulled her towards him. She had mistakenly kissed his chest even, leaving the mark of her red lips on his skin. She had foolishly hiccupped and giggled. Bala had grabbed her and taken her back to her room and tended to her. Burly a man though he was, he didn’t allow Ratri to kiss him. “You are drunk. You are not thinking straight,” he had argued reasonably. And in the morning, he had presented a bowl of soup to her, claiming it was a tried and tested cure for hangovers. “What did I do?” She was massaging her head, acting as if she didn’t remember, but she did. It was awful and embarrassing. A woman of her age shouldn’t do any of it. “You were shaken up. You are fine now,” he gently smiled. And from then on, whenever there was any spare time, Bala would come and talk with her. And it wouldn’t just be about trivialities. He would talk about his deepest insecurities. And Ratri would do so as well. Ratri had no problem sharing them with him. It was as if that night, they had bonded over her drunken stupor. “How did you reach the position you are in, Lady Ratri?” He had asked. She had bad memories about it. “I wasn’t always so taciturn and serious. I had a sister back in Shambala, Lakshmi’s mother, but in order to learn, I had dressed up as a boy and left to study in a Gurukul. Back then, girls weren’t allowed education. In fact, even now also, girls aren’t given the same treatment. I didn’t care. I cut my hair, strapped my breasts and left for it. And that was where I learnt the most.”

“I’m surprised no one wondered how there could be such a beautiful boy amongst them,” Bala had joked. “It became worse though,” she sighed, looking down. “The Gurukul, it had bad days, especially towards the end. When during a bath, the Acharya caught me, saying I didn’t have the body of a boy but of a girl, he forced me to leave. I begged him. He told me I could stay. But I had to…uh…” she shook her head. “I had to pleasure him.” She was tearing up now, even as Bala tried to dispel her bad memories by hugging her tightly. “I was confused and broken. He forced himself on me, and I stayed there. The nights were painful. And I wanted to go home. But I knew if I went go back, I wouldn’t be able to complete what I had started. I wanted go to the city, and learn from a scholar.” Bala had his eyebrows arched now, worried and a little angry. “I’m sorry. What did you do then?” “So I went inside his hut on one night, and I cut off his privates when he lecherously beckoned me towards him,” she pulled up a smile at the gory memory. “That is impressive,” he laughed, slapping his knee. “That was. But now that I think about it, it was kind of bloody.” “I’ve learnt, Lady Ratri…” “Call me just Ratri.” With tender eyes, Bala continued. “I’ve learnt that we live in a violent world, surrounded by violent men and women, doing violent things. It’s dark, bloody and I am used to it.” “That’s why you are with them?” she signalled at his gang, who were talking to each other in the other room. “No,” he shook his head. “The world might be bloody, but there’s still hope and they give me that. They promise me a better tomorrow. And it feels good, to have hope in a hopeless world.” And then he had leaned forward, “I wanted to ask you to not get furious, but know things and try and understand them. We didn’t mean to hide, but now it is important that we should tell you…” From then on, he had revealed the plan, because he trusted her. And it was nice to be trusted, even by a tavern guardsman. She had sent Kumar to spy on them, to know their moves so they wouldn’t make a stupid mistake. She wanted no damage to come to her, but at the same time, she didn’t want Bala to get in trouble either.

It was nice talking to someone, but he wouldn’t be around anymore for that. “Might I get an embrace?” “Aren’t you asking for too much?” “Wasn’t it you who kissed me first?” “That was me drunk,” she blushed. He laughed. “You remember then. You are such a bad actress.” Ratri shook her head as she came forward and embraced him, her nails digging into his skin, the scent of soap from his hair permeating her nostrils. She felt so small around his wrapped arms. “It was nice having a friend like you,” she said, pulling back. He had gone red, like always. “It is the same for me. I hope I return and we talk more than we usually did.” “I’ll show you the theatre here.” “Is it boring? Will I understand?” Ratri held on to his hands. “With me, you’ll understand everything.” And then there was a knock on the door. Ratri let go his hand as she saw Kumar coming out of his hole, reaching for the door. Ratri whistled at Kumar to not open it right away. Ratri nodded at Bala silently, and he swiftly walked to the back, waking up Kalki from his room, Kripa from the corridor, as they went downstairs. Ratri walked to the door, opening it, only to find a familiar figure, staring at her. Bald head, sunken eyes and dark skin, a black dhoti wrapped around his waist, and a black robe wrapped across his chiselled, lanky frame. It was none other than the Commander of the city. “Hello there,” Kali rasped, showing the letter in his hand, while he stood in front of his twin guards. “I got your invite. Might I come in to talk for a while?”

Astras, explosives made out of Soma ores, were wrapped in a cloth. Kripa had said that she needed to burn the leaves sticking out of it, let it reach the ore and then it’d burst. It would give her enough time to throw it across at her target and run away while it caused a huge explosion. But igniting it to kill a little girl was the burden she would carry herself. But she couldn’t find the chambers of Vedanta where she could detonate the bomb; perhaps he wasn’t even here at the fort. Though she found Urvashi’s room, clutching the balcony parapet outside her room. She could hear her faint voice. “You can leave,” she said to someone. “But princess, kingship has told me not to.” “I don’t care.” The voice was childish. “You stay out there. I don’t like anyone watching me sleep.” “Kingship will cut my head off,” the soldier pleaded. “I will do the same if you don’t leave.” There was a scuffle. “Can I at least close the windows?” “I like the breeze. Do you want me to die in this heat?”

“No, no, of course not, princess,” he whimpered. “Good, leave then.” The door was shut off. Padma waited, still clinging to the edge, her fingers wanting some rest, but getting none. She could feel the sting as she waited. It had been close to an hour when she could finally hear the faint snoring from Urvashi’s room. She came up and jumped inside, making sure her feet made no sound. She saw that in the midst of the candles that burnt in her room, books were piled up, with a cot high above a pedestal. Padma walked towards Urvashi, counting her breaths, not making any noise. Urvashi. She was beautiful, with curly hair, looking angelic while she slept. She was unharmed by this world, unlike Padma. She had been gifted her childhood, unlike Padma. Jealousy poisoned her thoughts like a wasp’s sting, as her hands reached for the astras. Should she light them up and leave them like that? That was what she had come for. Destroying the one thing Vedanta valued most, leaving him dead from the inside. That would be a worse punishment than death itself. He would weep and hurt himself, finally resorting to suicide. These thoughts amused Padma, especially since she had lost her only family because of him, burnt and hung like traitors. Anger had made her promise herself that she would bring him to ruin, just like her brothers had gone down. Things had changed since then. She had met and she had lost people. She still remembered the day she was being taught hunting by her youngest brother, Surya, the one who was set to join the army. They were in the forest, in one of the woods that surrounded Indragarh, and they were hunting a jackal. Padma, without the use of an arrow, tried spearheading the animal, but it hadn’t worked. It dodged and chased for his life, even as Padma shot multiple arrows at it, finally resulting in a win. The jackal had lain there, while Padma and Surya walked to it. It was still breathing, for the arrow had struck his paws. “Well, this is something,” the honeyed voice of Surya echoed. “You didn’t kill him.” Padma pulled out the dagger and knelt, ready to strike, when Surya grabbed her wrist. “Nah, leave it,” he said. “You crazy?” chuckled Padma. “We could have a nice fur pelt for ourselves, with winter approaching.”

“I know. But you see, clothes and food are not as important as teaching your little sister something.” Surya said. “Your anger let this animal fall on the ground. But you didn’t win.” “I didn’t win? I have laid it to the ground. Bah!” she retorted. “I know. But just because it’s down, you haven’t won. The world has taught us that to move forward, one must defeat the others. But I don’t see it that way.” He pulled out the arrow, the jackal still breathing hard, panting, as Surya pulled out a cloth and poured some antiseptic cream on it, applying it to the wound. “Kindness and love is what this world needs the most.” The jackal slowly stood up and instead of attacking Surya or Padma, who had instantly pulled back, the jackal licked Surya, like a dog on a leash. Surya gave him some food, which the jackal ate from his hand. “Because kindness, my dear, always reciprocates.” Padma, now standing in the centre of the room, set down the astras. She went for the candles and knelt down to light the them up, even as thoughts somersaulted and collided inside her. Her hands were shivering. And as she was about to reach out for the astras, the flames almost touching them, the girl turned over in his sleep. She backed off, silently, of course, worried, with sweat beads trickling down her face. She came forward to see Urvashi had shifted her position, and right under the cushion of her arm, was a wooden figure. It was carved perfectly, had a conical nose and defined head. It was clear to Padma from a cursory survey of the room that Urvashi was fascinated by wooden figurines, just as Padma loved collecting antique coins. It’s easy to hate but difficult to forgive. She turned around and her eyes met Arjan’s. She almost shrieked at the sight of him, but he instantly put his palms over her lips. What was he doing here? “Who’s there?” Urvashi’s voice echoed in the room, as her eyes slowly opened and saw Padma and Arjan in the room. “Who are you?” She backed off against the corner of the bed, her night gown crumpling in the process. Using her toy as a weapon, she put up a brave front and asked, “What do you want?” Padma had no real idea what to tell her. Arjan was confused himself. “You are assassins, aren’t you? Father told me all about your kind. But who are you?” Padma grimaced at Arjan, who mouthed at her, “We need to leave.”

“GUARDS!” Urvashi yelled. Padma’s heartbeat increased, as she grabbed the astras from the ground, reaching forward and jumping from the window with Arjan, uncaring that they were jumping to their deaths. She realized this mid-air, while Arjan used his sickle to claw at the fort walls, until their feet hit the ground and they started dashing away. “Why did you follow me?” “To make sure you didn’t do anything foolish.” Arjan was running beside her. “But you shouldn’t…have…uh…done anything foolish in trying to stop me from doing anything foolish.” She was confused and she was panting, the exertion from her getaway muddling up her words. They were making their way towards the wall that led to the back side of the fort. But now, the bells were being rung, and soldiers were following them. They could hear the horses following them from across the stables. Padma reached for the wall, her limbs acrobatically leaping up, till she reached the edge, one leg hanging over the other side, while she leaned down to grab Arjan. He tried to jump, but he couldn’t. He used the sickle to make a leap and as he grabbed her hand, his face contorted into a painful expression. He fell back, unable to stand up. He turned around and Padma saw an arrow had pierced him. Multiple fire arrows were being shot at Padma, but she was dodging most of them. “Come on!” Arjan was still making his way up, his feet struggling, as another arrow struck one of his feet. “I-I can’t.” He looked up, his face pale as the moon, tears around his eyes. “Leave now.” “I can’t. Not without you.” “If you stay…” the barks of the hounds were really close now. “They will kill you and me. One of us needs to be there with Kalki.” “I don’t care about Kalki! I care about you.” Arjan smiled. “If you do, if you really do care about me, go and protect him. Please. Stay with him and take him where he’s supposed to go. Please, promise me.” He held out his hand. Padma nodded, grasping his hand, when the soldiers finally came up close. The hound leaped at Arjan, but with a swift flick of his hand, Arjan clawed its face and flung it away.

“Leave now! I’ll try to stop them!” And then another arrow hurt him and he was pushed against the rocky wall, blood trickling from his mouth, pooling over his tunic. Padma looked at Arjan once, perhaps for the last time. A broken boy who had seen the world for its truth, just like Padma, and who was about to meet his death, unlike Padma. He didn’t deserve it. She did. And she manoeuvred and lurched down from the wall, running as quickly as possible, as a volley of fire arrows were rained down on her. For the first time in a long while, Padma couldn’t help but shed tears for another person.

Ratri led Kali inside her house, but Kali chose to walk around. He scanned his surroundings, Ratri noticed, like a hawk, smelling and letting his ears move back and forth, as if he was trying to get a sense of the place. Ratri led him to her study, but Kali sent Koko and Vikoko out in the back, to check the other rooms. “I apologize,” he said, his voice cold and calculating. “I have grown to such a stature that many want to kill me. It’s customary to do a formal checking and recce. Please, lead me.” Ratri did, sitting on the opposite side of her study, while Kali came forward and sat in front of her. “You have a fine Yaksha servant at your disposal.” He patted the Yaksha’s head. “Thank you for the water, but I won’t take it.” Kumar went back, mumbling to himself. Kali studied the room, while Ratri continued to watch him. The silence was killing her and thanks to the Gods, she had a basement ready, where there was a passage leading out of the house and out in the open. It was for emergencies just like this, since she was heavily mired in propaganda and knew one day she had to escape when her house was cornered by swordsman and

archers. They must have left, since Koko and Vikoko returned, shaking their heads, and Kali nodded back at them. Koko and Vikoko were popular by now, the twins that had taken the city under their fist. They were everywhere and most people were scared of their towering, brute personalities. “I never thought I’d be meeting you.” “Why is that? I mean, Vedanta had told me so much about you. It was a shame he took away your seat in the government and put you in-charge as a librarian with a fancy title to it. But we both know it was to get rid of you.” Ratri smiled forcefully. What was this man getting at? At a closer look, Ratri could see how his veins were popping out of his skin. He used to look different, she recalled, with a rather handsome face, long hair and a charming, disarming smile. At least that was what she had seen when Vedanta was announcing the new leaders of the city and she was amongst the many nobles, forced to clap and applaud. He had changed. But what had made him like this, only he knew. “Vedanta had a poor sense of judgment in your case, so I’ve decided to replace him.” “With whom?” Kali smiled as if it was obvious. “Oh,” smugly Ratri nodded, “you.” “Yes. I have decided to be the king now, since matters have forced my hand. I can’t do anything but agree. Many in the government feel that way. We tallied and saw.” “Why wasn’t I invited?” “I asked Vedanta. He said it didn’t matter.” For all she knew about Vedanta, he couldn’t have said that. Perhaps the so- called absurd tally was bribed, forced or even fictitious. “But I, an upstanding citizen now of this city, decided this would not be the case. So I came here to take your vote. What do you propose? Do you think I am capable of being a king?” He was acting strangely. It did not seem likely that a person like Kali would bother to travel to the house of a mere functionary, in order to get her vote to legitimize his rule. “Your silence assures me of a positive response,” he nodded. “I’m glad and, of course, thank you for this invite,” he signalled at his guards who went outside, his voice raising high. “You have been gracious enough to do that. I

always believe books are a way of to heaven. And we can all go on that path if more of us tend to be readers. You have built a healthy, literary heritage.” He nodded to himself, as his guards came forward with huge terra cotta pots in their hands. “When I see what is happening in the city, I’m often reminded of a time back in the village I had been temporarily staying at. It had a small tailor’s shop I worked at, just as a roller. You know what a roller is?” Ratri shook her head. “It’s the least important and most boring job you can come up with,” Kali said. “You need to take the clothes the tailor gives you, roll them and keep them packed. That was it. Anyway, we worked at a barn. We got a customer one day, asking us to refund the money we took. And mind you, we took nothing but meager coins for the work we did. We asked why. He showed us his garment, which was torn. It was odd. When he left after receiving his coins, we began to look around, and you know what we found?” Ratri remained quiet. “Rats. All inside the hay, hiding. Whenever we tried to catch them, we couldn’t, because they were able to escape, those little creatures. We tried to ignore them, but they managed to tear our clothes and we were losing business. People said we didn’t do our jobs well. We were on the brink of unemployment when my master, the tailor, got an idea. You know what he did?” “No. What did he do?” “He burnt down the barn.” “What about his employment?” “He could build the barn again, but he couldn’t kill the rats. So he burnt down the barn. It was a lovely sight.” He paused. “I realized that day in order to win some, you lose some.” Ratri pursed her lips, as she looked at the terracotta pots the guards were holding onto, finally realizing what it was about, the entire story. “What is going on?” Kali stood up, announcing, “A sign of my respect.” He signalled to Koko and Vikoko, who began to spill water everywhere. “I am blessing you with the holy liquid,” he smirked. But the smell was a giveaway. Ratri stood up and pulled out the knife from underneath the table, where it had been glued. “It’s oil.”

“Hence, it’s holy. For fire is where I grew up in and it’s fire where you will die.” “Why are you doing this?” She plunged her blade in the air, but it didn’t reach Kali for he was quick enough to grab her by the throat, pushing her against the wall. Koko and Vikoko used the fire lamps in the house, letting them race across the spilled oil. As she was held captive against the wall, she could see her house burning down around her, the smell of charred wood and paper engulfing her nose. “I have ravens in the city that speak to me, whisper in my ears about the infidels that have corrupted my city. And guess who they whispered of recently?” he whispered in her ears, his voice raspy. “ You .” Ravens? Of course. Spies. Informants. But who? Padma. Was it her? No. Was it Kalki? Oh no. Did Kali follow them here when they were returning? It could be possible. “We should leave, my lord,” Vikoko said, hearing a sudden noise. And that is when Kumar entered with a sword, trying to attack and succeeding in doing so, as he sliced Vikoko’s armoured leg. Koko came forward near Vikoko and slashed the head of the Yaksha. Ratri yelled in shock, her lungs burning with the smoke, as she coughed and cried. Vikoko groaned, touching the bloody stump on her body, as she kicked the head of Kumar across the room. “They are always such little idiots,” Kali sighed, pushing her against the wall, as she felt pain blurring her vision. Ratri flung the dagger that had fallen to the ground, piercing deep into Kali’s neck. Kali stopped. His hand reached out for the blade. He calmly pulled it out, looked at his blood, and touched the back of his neck. It didn’t even affect him. “Nice try, my lady. Perhaps in the after life, you can learn not to hit a God with a mere blade,” he winked, leaving her in the fire. She staggered on the floor. She tried to save herself from the fire that had begun to engulf the entire room. Ratri could feel the burn in her lungs, because; the room was slowly running out of clean air to breathe. Her last coherent thought before she

passed out, was noticing a pair of feet near her head. But wasn’t Kumar already dead? No. The feet belonged to none other than Bala, who had come to rescue her. “What happened?” he cried to her, but words wouldn’t make their way out of her mouth. “You returned,” Ratri smiled weakly, as Bala broke through the burning wreckage around them, trying to get them both to a safe place. “I had to. I couldn’t leave the most amazing person I met to die,” he stopped. “Ugh, the basement door is closed.” When the ceiling suddenly caved in, she realized, dimly, that she could see stars in the sky. She swivelled her head, focusing her vision, when she realized her entire house was on fire. It was over. Everything she owned or she would ever own, her partner, Kumar… And then she felt a sudden change in her position, as Bala’s arms weakened and she fell to the ground. She looked up. There were two arrows in Bala’s chest. Ratri turned and saw Kali with Vikoko and Koko, who were using bows and arrows. Bala took out his mace, breaking the arrows, even as blood spilled from his chest. “You must run.” Kali yawned, as he came forward, letting Koko and Vikoko rest their weapons, his eyes blinking as he turned to Ratri, who was still on the ground. “I told you. Rats just come out when there is fire. And then they die.” He was close to her, with a sword in his hand, when Bala blocked her. Ratri yelled, trying to make Bala understand that Kali was somehow immune to blades and other weapons, when everything happened all at once. Bala smashed the mace, but before it could hit Kali, his hands stopped him and he twisted Bala’s thick, burly arm with ease. Ripping his shoulder joint and bones out, Kali pierced his sword into Bala’s neck at the same time, skewering him, and his eyes went lifeless. He then twisted the sword upwards, shattering his skull. Bala’s body, lifeless, lay on the ground, as tears stung Ratri’s eyes. She reached out for him, seeing his face, destroyed by Kali’s ravage. It can’t be. And she turned, rasping, her eyes venomous, as she reached for the mace that Bala held. Kali brought a sword down on her back, neatly piercing and tossing her to on the ground. She retched then lay still, her eyes seeing nothing.



Kalki thought he had seen everything until the fire blazed inside the house they had just escaped from. The tunnel had led them quite far from it, and he was glad he was away from the wretched man, Kali. But then, the house was aflame and Kalki tried and failed to stop Bala from leaving. “I have to go, brother,” he had said. Kalki, his energy dead and his joints hurting, shook his head. “No, he’ll kill you.” “I won’t let Ratri die.” And Kalki understood what Bala was feeling. That’s how he had felt as he raced across the plains of Shambala, only to find Lakshmi dead. He understood it, but he knew Bala would be in grave trouble if he went. “Stay safe.” Bala nodded, and with a smile, said, “I believe in you, brother. I believe in the cause. Bring back order again.” And he left, sprinting across the field. Kalki remained there. The fire had caused most of the house to crumble. Where was Arjan? Where was the new girl Padma? Why was everything so dire?

It had been an hour and the house he had lived in, was now ash. People had gathered around it, but Kalki didn’t understand why. Kalki began to trudge forward with Shuko over his shoulder, when he was toppled over to the ground by Kripa. “You shouldn’t leave. Let’s go, Bhargav waits for us.” “I don’t care about some man in the hills. This is my family,” Kalki began to walk away, gritting his teeth. He had reached and exited the plains, when he saw the heartrending sight before him. A group of people looked at him, some even recognizing him as the prisoner who had escaped on the flying chariot. Kalki found in front of him, two corpses, hideously massacred. It was Bala, his face destroyed and Ratri, a sword sticking out of her spine. Kripa had managed to catch up to him as Kalki fell to the ground, tears welling up in his eyes, his fists clenching with hatred. Kripa gasped, as he tugged on to Kalki, pulling him away. “You can’t see this.” “I have to kill him,” he said, his mind had wandered to the time he had the racing contest with Bala. Lakshmi would have hated Kalki, now that he had let her aunt die as well. All the deaths were now weighing him down. “You will. But everyone recognizes you, mate. Come with me,” he pushed him, away from the crowd. Kalki pushed the old man away. “You don’t get it. I have to kill him now.” Kripa remained there, not even moving. “And then what? Get caught again like last time, when you went all heroically in front of Durukti? Do you want to get trapped again, stuck in that vicious cycle and keep having us free you?” “There’s no ‘we’ anymore,” a voice came from behind. “Oh for the love of the Gods,” Kripa grunted. Kalki turned to face a tall, agile girl, with shrewd eyes and silvery hair. She had a pale and drawn face. As she came forward, Kalki realized she had been crying. “It shouldn’t have happened…I told him it was a bad idea, but he didn’t listen,” Padma said. “What do you mean?” Kalki was panting now. “Arjan followed me to Vedanta’s palace,” her voice was quiet. “No,” gasped Kalki, his nightmares were coming true. “Did he die as well?” “I-I don’t know…” she began to cry again.

Kalki grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezing them tightly, making her wince. “How do you not know if he died or not?” “I couldn’t see…” she choked. “Leave her!” yelled Kripa, grabbing Kalki’s hand, and who felt a force come over him. He left Padma. She lay there mutely, on the ground. Kalki looked up. From afar he could see hooves throwing up dust in the air. It was the Manav soldiers. “We need to leave now. Fast!” Kripa urged. “I can’t. I have to check if he’s okay…” “He’s dead!” yelled Kripa. “All right? Arjan is dead, Bala is dead and Ratri is dead and if you stay here longer, we will all die as well. Now I know you don’t like either of us, but we need to leave. All of us, mate. I know you want to kill Kali. He did all of this and I agree with you.” He clasped Kalki’s face, and for a moment, Kalki felt he was looking at him like a son. “But you can’t let Durukti’s episode happen again. You can’t go there and get caught, getting imprisoned. You will return after learning the Ways of the Worthy and you’ll be able to defeat the Adharm. But for that, we need to leave.” You need to move on if something happens to me, Arjan had said to him. No. Kalki chose to believe that Arjan was alive and well, and he would be out there, surviving somehow. Shuko had been flapping his wings, confused, until Kalki realized that he had let his anger control him and he had to calm down. Shuko sat back on his shoulder again. “Will you come with us?” Kripa asked Padma. Kalki looked at Padma and both of them shared a look of guilt and embarrassment, before she agreed. She wiped her tears. Kalki felt guilty for hurting her, but only for a split second. “I’ll go with you,” she said. Kalki suspiciously eyed her, but chose not to speak just then. He was overwhelmed by grief and anger. The people of the city were watching as the Manav soldiers got closer. “Let’s go.” Kripa offered him his hand. “How do we…” he tried to find words. “How do we escape?” “I have got some horses lined up, from a friend in the city; he’ll get us the transport.”

Kalki nodded, taking the old man’s hand, and looked at his broken, new team of people. He looked at the man he couldn’t trust and the woman who had left his brother to die. And he wasn’t sure if he was ready for a journey with them. But he had no choice.

For weaklings and traitors, death was the only path. When it came to Kali, he didn’t care about them. They were worse than the scum of this land, thrown and pitted against each other. They suffered the most. They should. He hated them. What he did to Kalki’s accomplices was exactly what they deserved, and perhaps even more, if he had the time. But he had to leave. People were gathering and it was not a nice image to see their new king be a killer in the streets. They had to respect him after all. Durukti deserved the same fate, but she was his sister. The blood between them stopped him from doing anything. But he knew what he had to do with her. He would keep her in control with Symrin, her handmaiden, who be his spy. He had given her gold to speak to him whenever Durukti was a nuisance or try to do something. But softness and tenderness crushed him whenever he saw her face. Now, as he stood there, in her room, he asked her, “Would you come for the coronation?” He didn’t have to try so hard in getting the crown from Vedanta. The Naga leaders were dead, except Manasa, about whose death he and lied about it. She

wouldn’t be returning for sure. Vedanta was afraid and Kali intended to feed on this fear. Durukti was sitting on the window sill, looking at the stars. “Why is your chest bloody?” Kali was so muddled up in his thoughts, he had forgotten about his dishevelled frame. “I was handling some business.” “Did you kill him?” she asked. Surely, she spoke of him. Kalki. The mysterious villager from Shambala. Just because of that, Kali wanted to burn down the village, but then he hadn’t lost all sense of reasoning. “Yes,” he lied. She turned. There was no sympathy in her eyes. “Good.” Good? “What happened to you?” “I just thought he was a different person. But he’s not.” Kali walked over to her, close, as he clasped her hands. She looked at him, sternly, brows arched high. “I apologize for my actions recently,” Kali sighed. “I was hurt and angry. Martanja had a way of influencing people. He convinced me that you were lovers with him.” “You should care more about the city than my life.” “But your life is important to me.” Kali wanted to hug her, but he held back. No matter how distanced they had grown, he still loved her and he knew she loved him back, despite the hatred. “What had gotten into you?” “Some people bring out the worst in you,” he spoke, regarding Kalki. He was too strong for his own sake, just like how Kali was. Perhaps he had been subjected to the Soma as well. “Each one of us has a dark side and it comes out eventually. It’s not planned.” He tightened his hand around her. “But some people also bring the best out in you. I don’t want to lose you because of our recent squabbles. You had your own right to do what you wanted.” Durukti clenched her teeth and slapped him as hard as she could. Kali took it, calmly, sighing. “I think I deserved that.” “You don’t own me, brother. You’re damn well right you deserved it.” “Does that mean you forgive me?” She looked at him for a moment. Kali came forward, embracing her, and for a while she didn’t reciprocate, until she hugged him back in relief. He

pulled back, looking at her with wistful eyes. “Would you come for my coronation?” “Do I have a choice?” Kali knew exactly what to say to appease her. “Yes, you do. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” A smirk pulled up her cheek. “I will.” He wasn’t sure she meant it or if things were back to normal, but at least the façade of it was. He couldn’t revel in it for long since a voice came from behind him. “My lord, the men from the keep have returned from the infirmary and are waiting for you,” Koko’s familiar voice spoke. The word ‘keep’ alarmed Durukti. “What have you done with the medicine I brought for you?” “My dear,” he dexterously ran his fingers over her collarbone, “they were not just mere medicines. They were an elixir. And sadly, they have been destroyed.” She raised her brows. “What do you plan to do? Search for more?” Kali hadn’t thought of that. Each part of his body felt more than better. He hadn’t felt fitter in his life and it had crossed his mind, to travel in search for more. But then did he need it? He had kept a pouch of it, just in case his illness returned. But for now, he was content. “I’m a king, sister. I have better things to worry about.” He slowly kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for everything. Without you, there is no me,” he whispered and he meant it. Kali left the grand room, glancing at Symrin, who was making her way in. They shared a look before Kali left with Koko and Vikoko towards the main chambers, near the fort’s garden, where he had impaled the propagandist. He reached and found five men, bandaged and standing calmly, with their arms at the back. More guards from his fort were standing guard behind them. They all looked worried. Kali saw they all were Rakshas, Martanja’s men, who were supposed to keep the Somas safe. “Do you remember…” he began, walking calmly back and fro, as he saw their huge, injured bodies, “who those culprits were?” All of them shook their head to say no.

“Can you recognize any one of them if they return?” He played with his fingers, looking at his nails, paring them against each other. One of them nodded his head. “Stand in front.” The Rakshas did. “What is your name, son?” “Pradm.” “Pradm,” Kali nodded. The man had a huge gash in his chest, which was festering. “Would you manage to recognize them if they are back? Did you have a good look at their faces?” “Yes, my lord,” Pradm said. “Good,” Kali turned to the others. “Koko, Vikoko, kill them all.” Pradm gasped. Koko and Vikoko, quick on their feet, slashed their heads. Some protested, but Kali’s other guards stabbed and severed their torsos. Pradm watched in horror, while Kali shifted his gaze away from him. “Don’t worry. They were useless. Raktapa, your chief, would have mutilated them already if you returned to him like that. I did you all a favour.” Pradm shivered, in spite being a big man himself. Something about Kali made even him afraid. “But you won’t go anywhere, don’t worry, Pradm. You are going to stay right here, with me. Won’t you?” Pradm weakly nodded. “Great. You are the new commander for the Rakshas force in the city. I’ll send a note to Raktapa telling him about your post and the circumstances surrounding it.” “But I’m just a soldier.” He had a weak voice. That’s just what I need. “You are more than that, son.” He patted his chest, leaving Pradm in the midst of decimated Rakshas. “And also,” he said without looking at Pradm’s face, “tomorrow is my coronation. Please make yourself available.” Kali stood as Vedanta, the last king, came forward. He had a forced smile as he put down the crown over Kali’s head. But it wasn’t just the crown. He

put several other pieces of jewellery over Kali, including rings, bracelets and necklaces. Kali had a smirk. He had worn a robe, made of silk and fur. Vedanta turned away, clapping, while a row of people, nobles, and aristocrats lined up to congratulate him. Kali turned to his right and watched Vedanta slowly clap with his daughter, who seemed like a problem at first sight. She didn’t have the courtesy to clap, but rather had a frown on her face. Kali didn’t mind the indecency. She was just a child, after all. He even saw Kuvera, giving his plastic grin, fake as ever. He was pleased however that Kali was able to defeat his arch enemies: the Nagas. On the other end, he saw Durukti, who looked pleasant today, with Symrin on her side. Behind Kali, Koko and Vikoko stood on opposite sides, standing still like devoted soldiers. Pradm was in the front with his Rakshas guards, kneeling down to their new king. Kali stood up to speak. “I have been bestowed with this great duty by the people’s man, the last King Vedanta. He was gracious enough to give me this opportunity, on seeing I had better and more progressive ideas to work with.” And more so because he had threatened him for Urvashi’s safety. “I have thrown out the Naga tribe from our city.” Many uproariously cheered that, and Kali had to calm them down. “I sent them back to their home city.” Though it was a lie. He had put them in one place under the impression that Manasa had summoned them. And then, he had killed each one of the Nagas, with archers stationed nearby. “Thus more Manav soldiers have been inducted, and we can restore status quo as best as we can.” Everyone clapped. He had just waged a war with the other Nagas. But for now, he didn’t care. He had broken his own pact, but that was the only way to stop all the feuds. “Enjoy the feast and the drinks and the women, of course.” And here, the apsaras entered, dancing in highly revealing clothes. Kali could see from the corner of his eyes that Durukti was feeling ashamed, while Vedanta grabbed Urvashi’s hand and left from the place. It was a sight to behold. Kali sat on his throne, his hands dangling from the arms of his throne, as he casually positioned himself. He had great plans for the city, but he wouldn’t stop here. He’d go for the other ones now. He was strong and he was back. Koko leaned forward, while Kali saw the nobles enjoying the sight of the prostitutes. “My lord?”

“Yes?” “Lord Vedanta has left.” “I know.” Kali was dismissive. “As you had placed your guards in his fort, they were quick to notice a familiar prisoner they had earlier seen.” “Familiar, you say?” Kali raised his brows. “Call him here.” “All right, my lord.” And within moments, the prisoner was brought in, with his head covered in a sack, and hands tied by a tight rope. Kali drank his wine, as he signalled the sack to be lifted. When the sack was removed, it revealed a familiar figure. With wounds across his body, the boy was the same one he had been seen during the trial, assisting Kalki’s flight. Pradm, who was standing right there, ran instantly towards Kali and nodded. “It’s him, my lord. One of them.” Kali sighed, walking clumsily and spilling his wine in the process, as he came close to the prisoner. “So you thought destroying my property would be a good idea?” Pradm interjected. “My lord, should I cut him open?” “No, that’ll be too easy.” He looked at the boy, patting him on the shoulder. “We’ll have some fun with him. Death is too quick and too easy a punishment. What is your name, boy?” The boy, instead of responding, spat on Kali. Kali wiped it off, watching the huge scar that ran across the boy’s face. “The name is Arjan,” the boy began, “and if you want to survive any longer, you should kill me right now.” Kali liked him. Oh, he liked the boy already. He was feisty. We’ll see, boy. We’ll see.

He wasn’t dead. Durukti knew that a boy like Kalki, splendidly powerful in his own right, couldn’t die so easily. Kali wanted to make her believe this premise, perhaps trying to take away her hopes that there was a hero coming to save her. But Durukti didn’t need a hero. She had to be careful. Regardless of Kalki leaving her with a stark raving madman, whom she once knew as her brother, she didn’t hate Kalki. She had to show she hated him so that she could evade Kali’s suspicions. He wasn’t the same man anymore. He acted differently these days. He felt different too. And worst of all, he looked different. The once golden-eyed boy with wavy hair was replaced with a bald man, with skin that matched the colour of coals. Was it the effect of the Somas? Sure, she wished Kalki could have taken her away. And there was still a certain part within her that wanted to slap him. But he had a different path to go on and she had a different path to travel. She couldn’t force it on him. “If there is one person who can help Kali right now, it is you. Save him. And change him if you can,” Kalki had said to her.